


Sinking Like Stones

by NewlineBlue



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Angstdashi, Background Relationships- Adashi, Depression, Don't Panic: Coldplay, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Social Anxiety, Soulmate AU, Warnings May Change, adashi, klance, klangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-08-20 22:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16564706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewlineBlue/pseuds/NewlineBlue
Summary: "Everybody here's got somebody to lean on."Keith had bigger things to worry about than his soulmate and his strange last words. After struggling to simply want to live for three years, it makes sense that he wouldn't think about their strange words. He didn't even know if he'd live long enough to meet his soulmate. So he lived as an aspiring author who hasn't aspired anything in a while, with his large sweatshirt always covering the letters on his wrists.He meets a boy in the woods one night, a boy with freckles spotted across tanned skin. A boy who loves to sing strange songs and can name every visible constellation. Someone who Keith can talk to, someone who makes him wonder that maybe everything is worth it.But the stars are just out of reach for the drowned.





	1. I

Keith typed and typed at the keyboard, gaining nothing but a flashing line that erased the same words over and over again. It never stopped flashing, blinking in and out, like it was fading in and out, over and over. That's how he felt sometimes, only half there, half alive. He would go days without feeling any emotions other than exhaustion. But he kept living on, being that half-alive flashing line, no matter how much he hated it.

He closed his laptop. It was no use writing, he had no ideas and even less motivation, and the way his life was going so far, it was only a matter of time before he finally gave up.

The analog clock sitting on his bookshelf read 4:28. He knew he needed to get some sleep, but he never could. He'd only lay there for hours, ideally not thinking a single thought, because the more thoughts he had, the worse it got. So his usual activities while trying to sleep involved browsing the internet until he was too tired to hold his eyes open.

He rubbed his wrist subconsciously, a habit he's had since he was a child. Like he'd rub away the strange message tattooed on there since birth. Everybody here's got somebody to lean on. He used to scoff at that when he was younger. Not everyone had that. He's grown since then, realized that he still has his mom and even though it was the two of them against the world, he managed to stay alive this long. But he still found the message strange. Why would somebody be telling that to a dying person? What even did it mean?

He pulled the covers over his shoulder and tried to let himself fade into the exhaustion, but sleep never came.

~~~

"Keith!" A singular knock on his door. Through closed eyes, he could tell it was his mom waking him up. "Wake up, it's your birthday!"

Keith blinked his eyes open. His mom was in fact in the doorway. "Can't I just skip? It's my birthday," he complained, rubbing his tired eyes.

"No, didn't you say you had a math test?" She asked.

"I can make it up," Keith muttered, still half asleep. He burrowed back into the covers, hoping to sleep for a little longer.

His mom walked over and yanked the sheets off of him, which then became a red pile of blankets on the floor. "Come on, Keith, I made you chocolate chip pancakes," she encouraged. She turned the lights on to make sure he didn't fall back asleep and left.

He sighed and buried his face in his pillow. Keith was exhausted. It was a never-ending cycle. He was awake when he should be asleep and he had to sleep when he needed to be awake.

Eventually, after ten minutes of mental debate on whenever it was worth it or not, pulled himself out of bed. He grabbed a pair of jeans, a shirt, and his red and white sweatshirt off the floor. He's had his sweatshirt for two years, there was a hole on the elbow and the sleeves were fraying. He refused to get a new one, he's grown too attached to this one.

He climbed downstairs and sat at the kitchen island. A pile of pancakes sat on the plate, drowned in maple syrup and a smile made of whipped cream. He dug his fork into the pancake and started eating.

"Make any friends at school yet?" She asked, holding a pancake which looked a little burnt. She took a bite of it. Her graying hair was pulled into a short ponytail this morning, unlike how she usually wore it.

"Take a wild guess," Keith spoke through a mouth full of chocolatey pancakes.

She frowned and swallowed her pancake, "Keith, you really need a friend. As much as I love how close we are, you need someone else to talk to," she stated. She meant well, Keith knew, but it was more complicated than that.

Keith cut another slice with the side of his fork. "You know I get uncomfortable," he reminded. He didn't know what it was, he didn't think it was social anxiety because he never had panic attacks. It was just terrible and strange.

"Well, you've just got to find the person who doesn't make you uncomfortable," she stated. It was the same answer every time, and at this point, Keith was pretty sure that that person didn't exist.

Keith wished he could drive to school, but they only had one car. They weren't really poor, for a family with a single mother they were relatively well off, but they had no need for a second car, the only place Keith ever went was to school and back, and in the forest in their backyard. So, he took the bus, full of freshmen and sophomores, and a couple other juniors like him. He listened to music through his earbuds, sprawled out across the entire seat, hoping nobody needed to sit down next to him. 

The bus pulled up to the school and Keith mentally groaned as it slowed to a stop. He sighed, getting off, and made a mental note to rush through his English homework that was due in first period.

~~~

The door opened in his Physics classroom, and someone walked inside. Keith ignored it and went back to mindlessly sketching spirals onto his classwork, not looking up. His leg bounced against the metal of the stool he was sitting on. Instead of having desks like a normal class, Keith sat at a lab station. One that thankfully, did not have a lab partner for him to share with.

He propped his chin up against his left fist as he doodled, hoping the teacher didn't look at him not focusing on his work. A few moments later, Keith felt a small tap on his shoulder. He could have sworn that he imagined it, but a masculine voice asked, "Hey, you're Keith, right?"

Keith spun around, still sitting in his lab stool. The guy he was looking at was somewhat attractive, dark hair and eyes, with what looked like eyeliner outlining them. He looked somewhat strong, he probably was athletic in some way, and pretty much towered over Keith, who was only 5'7. "Yeah," Keith responded, knowing fully well that his statement sounded more like a question.

He held out his hand. "I'm Shiro, I just transferred from Huntingburg High," He gave Keith a warm smile, "The teacher told me to sit here, so, yeah. Figured I'd meet my new lab partner."

"Uhh, yeah, sure," he said, and awkwardly shook Shiro's hand. Keith wasn't good at conversations. He never was, and probably never will be. Plus, he hates conversation, so it's not like he feels like he's missing out on much.

"You're a junior, right?" He asked, trying to make small talk as he sat down at the stool next to Keith.

Keith nodded in response, and pulled his red and white jacket up further onto his shoulders, trying to indicate that he was uncomfortable. He felt a bit sick to his stomach, slightly, like he had too many chocolate chip pancakes this morning. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong. That was all his mind could tell him, like a siren in his brain yelling at him. He tried to ignore it like he did every other time someone tried to talk to him.

"I'm a senior. Don't see why I had to move in the middle of the year as a senior, but okay, Mom," Shiro ranted, speaking as if his mom could hear him. It wasn't even technically the middle of the year, it was late October.

Keith just nodded once again. Shiro must have gotten the idea that Keith wasn't that chatty because he just went back to working on his paperwork.

~~~

Keith was browsing the internet, trying to fill his time with something. He looked back at the video he was watching, and wondered how he ended up listening to Coldplay. He wasn't even a big fan of their music.

His phone vibrated on his bed. Keith grabbed the black phone and answered it. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Come downstairs Keith, I made you dinner," his mom instructed.

Keith was a little shocked. "You're already home?" She usually didn't get home until later, usually around ten or eleven. Keith usually came downstairs so the two of them could watch some TV, but after that, he was back up in his room again.

"I've been home for a while now, if you weren't holed up in your room you would have noticed," she complained. The phone gave a soft beep as she hung up, so Keith closed his laptop and pulled himself out of bed to head downstairs.

His mom had made spaghetti, a homemade sauce topping it. Before she had to work all the time, she loved baking and cooking. They used to have a homemade meal every night. But now she had almost no time for that, so Keith started relying on ramen and cereal for every meal.

"You're alive! Great!" she joked at the fact he never left his room. She slid him a glass of water over the island.

"Yeah," Keith took his fork and started spiraling it around in the pasta, "Why are you home so early?"

"Cause it's your birthday," she responded. She grabbed a bowl and gave herself some of the spaghetti. "Also, I picked you up a cake on the way home. It's an ice cream cake, so it's in the freezer."

Keith nodded. "Okay, cool," he spoke through a mouth filled with spaghetti.

She sat down next to him, still in her work uniform. Her shiny golden nametag, engraved with Krolia, sat on her white shirt. She worked as a manager of a fancy restaurant a couple towns over, which is why she was always home so late. Her white button-down was wrinkled and small creases were lined under her eyes. 

She deserved so much more than a mediocre job, a depressed son, and a husband who left without a word and took her daughter with him.

Keith finished up the rest of his pasta, leaving a bowl with a few red stains and a loose strand of spaghetti. He was either hungrier than he thought or he just missed having home-cooked meals.

His mom finished up shortly behind him, and took the cake out of the freezer, sticking a candle in it. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Keith, happy birthday to you!" She sang, off-key, as she set the Carvel cake down onto the counter. Keith smiled, blowing out the single candle. "Do you want a lactose pill or something?" she asked.

"I'll live," he decided, as she cut him a slice of cake. He ate the ice cream, smiling. Lactose intolerance was a bitch, but ice cream was too amazing to give up forever.

She handed him a couple of poorly-wrapped presents once he finished his cake, the bright red paper torn in some spots. "You didn't have to," Keith said, as he held one of the boxes.

"This is the last birthday you're technically a child for, so I decided to get you something nice," she said. That sentence always made Keith unsettled. The future always scared him, especially the thought of growing up and being on your own. He didn't know what he wanted to do, and he'd have to be in charge of money and bills and responsibility and he wasn't even sure if he'd live until college or not. He wasn't suicidal at the moment, but some days, months, or even years are worse than others. To be honest, he was surprised he lived this long.

Keith took of the wrapping paper. In the first box was a couple of fresh new notebooks, black with a white pattern on them, along with the second and third book of a series he was meaning to read. Inside the second box was a fresh, smooth, iPhone box. It was an SE, a somewhat older model. Keith instinctively ran his fingers over the cracked screen of his almost four-year old phone, hidden in his pocket.

"I figured you needed a new one, you mentioned that yours kept shutting down on you," she said, "And you did say you wanted to read those books when you got time." She gave him a soft smile, like she was happy for giving him gifts.

"Thanks, Mom," Keith said, and smiled. He hugged her real quick, and went back to looking at his new presents. He felt kind of guilty that his mom bought him all of this stuff. She could have spent it on something else for herself, but it was for him.

~~~

3:30. 3:31. 3:34. The minutes passed by slowly, but they did pass. And each minute that passed left Keith more and more awake, and more and more wishing he could just fall asleep. His face was illuminated by his phone screen, watching the lyrics on the screen, lyrics of a song he's heard a million and one times.

Keith needed to go outside, get a glass of water, stand up, do something, at least. He crawled out of bed and slipped the ratted red and white sweatshirt on, and started to sneak downstairs.

The door slid open and he took a breath, the crisp autumn air surrounding him. The stars above were only specks in the sky, a small pause from the darkness. The loose jacket slipped down his shoulders, showing a bit of his dark gray shirt and a sliver of skin. He fixed the hoodie back onto his shoulders and walked into the forest. 

People always say that walking in the forest at night's a bad idea, but sometimes it's the only way to clear your head and realign yourself, at least for Keith it was. He was drawn to the forest in his backyard for some reason, maybe it's the tall trees or the view of the stars or the smell of memories with him and his older sister playing when they were young and lived under the same roof.

It was difficult to see the trees around him in the dark, but he knew the path, tracing his fingertips along the rough bark on the fallen log. It arched up and down but mostly stayed at shoulder level, like a rough wooden handrail. He walked further into the woods, where the stars above weren't as visible. He found himself walking along the path to the right, rather than the one towards his left, the path he didn't walk down as often.

The smells of the forest helped him settle down, along with the isolation from the world, the absolute silence. It was like a second home to him, surrounded by oak trees whose leaves were fading into brown and littering the floor.

A scream pierced the air. "That's not good," Keith muttered to himself apathetically. It sounded relatively close by, but Keith ignored it.

"What the fuck!" a voice yelled, a voice that was pretty close to him. Keith blinked as a flashlight shone in his face, blinding his eyes as they tried to readjust to what felt like staring into the sun. He moved a hand up to his face to block his vision. "What is it with you crazy-ass white people walking in the woods at night?" The stranger asked.

"One, I'm Korean, and two, you're also walking in the woods," Keith stated.

The stranger thought for a moment, then the figure moved, in what took Keith a second to recognize as a shrug. He usually had good night vision, but the light in his face threw him off a little, making everything look like shadows in a blue-tinted background.

What sounded like a snap cut through the silence. The figure did something that looked like holding up a hand, but Keith couldn't tell why. "You've got me there," he joked. "Anyway, why are you in the woods at one in the morning?" he asked.

"Why are you in the woods at one in the morning?" Keith asked.

The figure shrugged. Keith could see a little better now, but everything was still silhouettes, a couple of discolored spots, like how the guy's shirt was bright white, and his jacket had orange stripes across the sleeves.

"Found a trail in my backyard a week ago or so. Wanted to check it out," he stated, his voice cool and casual, smooth like a lake's surface, "You?"

"Couldn't sleep," he summarized what could have been a week's worth of conversation into two words. Couldn't sleep.

"Wow, must be pretty bad if you had to walk all the way out here," he stated. He snapped once, twice, three times, "That's what I forgot to tell you. Name's Lance, by the way," he told Keith.

"I'm Keith," Keith responded.

Lance smiled, his teeth shining white, contrasting against the darkness. "Cool. So, Keithy, what do you like to do?" he asked.

Keith shrugged, making a little 'I don't know' sound. "I'm pretty boring to be honest. And it's just Keith, by the way."

Lance chuckled a little, "Nonsense, nobody's boring. Everyone has a story to tell. Some stories may be more eventful than others, but everyone's got a story."

"What if I don't?" Keith asked. There was nothing story-worthy about his life, he was just another teenager with depression and a cryptic soulmark.

Lance pursed his lips, searching for the words. "There must be something you do. I'm pretty sure you don't go home and stare at a wall for however many hours, and then go to sleep. If you did that then I wouldn't be talking to you right now," he stated.

Keith frowned. He had a point. "I like to write, I guess," he stated.

Lance snapped, forming a finger gun with his hands, which was pointed at Keith, "Exactly. You're a writer."

He thought of the empty Google doc with the short flashing line, over and over, a document that had been created last spring but still had not a single word on it. "I wouldn't say that."

Lance pulled out his phone, which illuminated the underside of his face as pulled up Google. Keith was able to observe him a little better, he had a dark, tanned complexion, one that if he was writing a story he'd call it copper, and freckles speckled along his nose. His dark hair was short and curly, all around his face, "Writer: a person who writes books, stories, or articles as a job or regular occupation. You write pretty regularly, so I'd say you fit into that category."

Keith smiled. Somehow, he wasn't feeling uncomfortable, talking to Lance. It was quite strange, feeling comfortable around someone expected to feel that sickening sinking feeling, but, for some reason, he didn't. Talking to him was easy for some reason. He actually calmed down, if anything.

"I guess so," Keith responded. He rubbed a circle around his wrist with his thumb, which was covered by the sleeve of his jacket.

Lance pointed to a fallen tree, sitting near the path. "You want to sit and talk for a while? I haven't got anywhere to go."

Keith gave an answer that would surprise himself, had it been a couple of hours ago, "Sure."


	2. II

Keith hadn't expected him to be in the forest again that night.

The thoughts have been running through his head all day, non-stop, from the moment he woke up from his roughly one hour of sleep to now, walking through the forest at night. He let his fingers follow the ridges of trees, but he didn't pay attention to his surroundings. He was too distracted, to caught up in what could happen.

Keith viewed what would happen from two standpoints, a realistic point, and a dreamer's standpoint.

Realistically, the guy would have found Keith strange, he would have decided to not go back into that forest. He'd probably wonder why that strange kid was in the forest, why he was walking alone. And he'd shrug it off as some sort of strange dream and carry on with his life. Keith would understand.

Normally, the thought of someone opting out of talking with him would be comforting, relaxing, enjoyable, even. But something in Keith didn't want him to leave. He knew it was incredibly unrealistic, but Keith hoped that he was still here, that he hadn't left. Something about him was almost comforting.They may have talked about some shitty Netflix show for an hour, but Keith enjoyed it. He never got to talk with anyone in real life like that. Yes, he had his mom, but that was about it.

It wasn't helpful that Keith forgot his name. Did it start with an R? An L? He was terrible with names, he always has been. He also forgot the name of the guy sitting next to him in his Physics classroom, and of almost everyone else.

A figure appeared in the background, erasing all of Keith's thoughts in a single swipe. He was here.

Since he had yet to shine a light in Keith's eyes, Keith could get a pretty good look at him. He was wearing an over-sized jacket and jeans, he was obviously prepared to go out in this weather. His hair was a mess, curls everywhere. His freckles, apparently he had freckles, dotted his face. Strange markings covered his right hand, a dark black in contrast to the tanned skin.

"Hey, Keith," He waved hello. There was about five feet between them, they had come from opposite directions. To compensate for that, he stepped forward a little more.

Keith nodded hello slightly. The air around them was cold. Keith's fingers, despite being his jacket's pockets, felt frozen. He balled his hands into fists, trying to warm his icicle-like hands. "Hey," he responded.

He lifted something up, "Brought a blanket this time, I didn't want mud all over my ass," he said. Keith couldn't tell completely what color it was in the dark, where everything looked blue, but it did actually look pretty blue, maybe a little purple in some spots, with white dots splattered everywhere, randomly.

He headed over to the fallen tree they had sat on the night before, and laid the blanket out, draping a small part over the log. He sat down on it, staying on one side, so Keith could sit on the other. He sat down on the soft blanket, sitting on his hands to try and warm them.

He could see the pattern a bit clearer now. The white dots were stars, and the blanket was a galaxy. "Do you like the stars?" Keith asked.

"Hmm?" He asked, looking at Keith.

"Your blanket has stars all over it," Keith said. He took a hand out from under his thigh to run it over the soft blanket. It was arguably the softest blanket Keith had ever felt, maybe even beating the purple one that his sister used to own.

"Yeah," he answered. He showed his hand, covered in the markings that Keith couldn't tell what they were before. Drawings of stars and moons done in a dark blue ink covered his hands, small circular planets with perfect rings dotted here and there, streaks of blue as comets. The drawing ran up his fingers and down his arm, stopping about halfway down his forearm.

"Whenever I get bored in class, I draw on myself. Sometimes to, you know, cover up the soulmark," he commented. Usually soulmarks were sensitive topics, especially if you had a bad one. He was so casual about his, it was probably nothing too serious, right? "But yeah," he said.

"You're good," He complimented, tempted to press a finger to the largest moon, spanning across in the space under the knuckles of his ring and pinkie finger. Keith restricted himself.

He couldn't, for the love of any religious deity in existence, remember what his name was.

"Yeah. My friends call me a jack of all trades, master of none—type guy. I'd say I'm at least a master of two." He praised himself. He glanced at the stars above them, shining brightly in contrast with the dark around them, "Singing and astronomy," He murmured.

"You know astronomy?" Keith asked.

He smiled softly, "When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut," Chuckling a little at the memory, he looked back at Keith, "Childish, I know. But, I started trying to figure out which stars I could go to when I did travel the galaxy."

He laid his back against the galaxy printed blanket, staring at the sky, "You know the closest star to us?"

Keith shook his head. The fact that Keith still couldn't remember his name bothered him, sitting at the tip of his tounge. He didn't want to ask, it would be too awkward.

He pointed to a bright star in the sky, distracting him from his thoughts, "Proxima Centauri. 4.2 light years away," He stated.

Keith laid on his back as well, looking up at the star he was pointing at. "That's not too far," Keith commented, not sure what else to say.

He smiled, his hand falling down and across his chest, "Twenty-five trillion miles," He answered,"It's close if you remember that almost all are at least a hundred light years away, but it's still twenty-five trillion miles too far," He said.

Keith turned his head to face him, but as he was focused on the night sky, Keith could only see his hair and ear, "Why do you say that?" He asked.

He shrugged, "When I was younger, I didn't like this world. It was too cruel, too harsh for me. Well, by younger, I mean more like thirteen-fourteen, so I understood the word," He gave the sky a sad smile, "I wanted to escape, to find a new place all on my own, to live in a little farm, harvesting ailen plants under a sky with two moons."

He certainly had a writer's imagination. Keith could see him, in a purplish sky, one moon glowing yellow and the other white. He would be wearing an air mask, not a space suit, picking up a green plant out of the ground. His shoulders would be exposed under a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Freckles dotted on his arms, and peeling skin from sunburns left untreated. Undisturbed, silent, peaceful.

Keith didn't blame him for wanting to dream about this. Sometimes Keith felt like he wanted his own little world as well, one where he was left alone and it was only him.

He sighed. Keith had read somewhere that sighs were like a mental reset button, "But I learned that if I need my own world, I need to build it myself."

It somewhat surprised Keith how insightful he was, considering that his first words to Keith was loud screaming. Especially since he couldn't have been older than Keith was, probably 17 at most.

"I guess so," Keith responded, looking back at the sky.

The moon shone above, a full circle of moonlight. Keith was drawn to something about the moon. It was always there, even if you couldn't see it. He found comfort in that.

"I'm still building my world, I guess. I've got my siblings who are off in college, my sister, my three friends, my mom and dad, my bed, the stars, singing along to strange music, that kind of thing. I thought I was done, but I guess I should add you now," He listed off all of the things that made up him in his entirety.

His name struck Keith in that moment. His name was Lance.

Lance.

It suited him. It wasn't a common name, not by a long shot, but a person like Lance wasn't common either.

"Let me guess, your world is just writing, scrolling the internet, and your mom?" Lance asked, reciting all of the info that he told Lance yesterday.

Keith shrugged, "You've got me," He stated flatly.

There was a silence. Lance hummed a little tune, sounding vaguely familiar. Keith couldn't pin a finger on what it was.

Keith listened in on the sound of his hums, how he took pauses whenever the song broke, and how the song jumped from low hums to high hums. His chest rose with every new breath, and the wind blew around them, cold and crisp, like the wind does this early in the morning.

It was pretty late—or early, technically. It was probably around four. "Where do you go to school?" Keith asked, out of curiosity. He doesn't remember spotting Lance at school ever, but he doesn't pay attention to everyone else at school.

"Huntingberg High. It's a town or so over that way," Lance answered, pointing to the direction he came, "Why?"

Keith shrugged, "Just curious."

He sat up suddenly, looking like he may have forgotten something important. Lance checked his phone, and muttered a curse in a foreign language. He took a breath in, "I've got to go, have a math exam in the morning. I want at least an hour or so of sleep." he stated, and sighed in disappointment.

Keith picked himself off the blanket, so Lance could pick it up and shake off all the dirt. "You know, you didn't have to come. Especially when you had an exam," Keith told him as he rolled up the blanket.

He took one last look at Keith before leaving. "Well, I wanted to."

~~~

As far as people came, Keith considered himself pretty observant. He sees the little details, like the stains on the sidewalk he was sitting on, the dust covering his phone's screen. But that morning, Keith noticed things he never did before. He doesn't know how he missed them.

He noticed people walking and talking, wandering about the campus. A girl wore an outfit obviously made for winter, and her friend wore one made for just the opposite. As people wandered around the school, waiting for the first bell, sitting against lampposts and buildings for classes, Keith observed.

He went to school on an open campus, so there was plenty of room. His favorite spot was a nook beside the library. Nobody else sat over there, just him on his own. And since it was an open campus, he could see the sky.

The sunrise was pink and purple and orange, colors like an artist painted it to be hung in a house. And just before first period bell rang and Keith would have to run to English, everyone was cast in gold across their faces. People laughed and talked, walking along the cement, holding each other's hands and holding their own heads high.

It almost made him feel lonely, but in some sort of bittersweet way.

He tried to imagine what Lance would look like with a golden smile across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just saying, in the future, the chapters will be a lot longer. I was tired when I wrote this.


	3. III

The bags under his eyes have been growing heavier and heavier, darker and darker, like how the evening sunk in earlier and earlier. Unnoticeable, until you compare it to how it was before.

His mom had started noticing, and Keith knew she noticed. Whenever it be by setting out his medication, the small pills sitting on a napkin near his breakfast rather than hidden away in a drawer, an extra hug every now and then, or watching one extra episode, she had subtle ways of saying that she knew he was doing worse.

And as much as Keith would like to say he's doing better, he really isn't.

Talking with Lance has definitely helped. Over the past two weeks, Keith had something to look forward to. He'd wait in class, anxiously tapping his pen against the desk, his leg bouncing up and down, watching the clock tick by. He'd watch meaningless things and try to write the best he could to pass the time, even falling asleep a couple of days. He had forgotten how it felt to look forward to something.

But even this didn't stop everything, it didn't cure him. He's started to feel himself slowly deteriorate, as classes grew harder, the future dimmer, his energy lower. Sometimes, having Lance to talk to almost made him feel even worse. He pities you. He thinks you're strange. He hates you. He's not going to show up today.

That last one always hurt the most. And it was the one that always rang in the back of his head, like a siren that will never turn off. Keith wondered how, despite knowing him for two weeks, how he left such an impact on Keith.

It was cold that night. He almost considered wearing a second jacket under his usual one. Keith sat down on the fallen log. It was hard to see what was around him, the moon was gone so only the stars shown in the sky. He wondered if Lance was there, they just couldn't see eachother.

He looked up at the sky. Lance had been trying to teach him the constellations, though only a couple stuck in his head. He tried searching for one, and in the leaf-less forest, it was easier. "See that line there? That's Orion's belt. There's the torso, and the stomach," Lance's voice said in his head. He connected the three stars together in his mind to make the belt and smiled.

There was just something about him that was calming. Keith wasn't sure what. He seemed like the kind of person that would get on Keith's nerves, with his slightly annoying attitude and constant talking, but he had a smarter, deeper side to him that Keith would guess that most people don't see.

"Keith? You there, dude?" A familiar voice called out, "I can't see shit right now."

Keith breathed a sigh of relief. Lance was there. "Yeah, I'm here, by the log," Keith answered.

"Alright," Lance unfolded his galaxy-print blanket, which must be getting dirtier and dirtier by the day. "How've you been there, Keithy?" He asked. The blanked whipped in the wind as he opened it, and eventually settled onto the ground, one corner draping over a rock, a few bumps as the blanket goes over a twig or a leaf.

"I've been okay," Keith stated.

Lance frowned, "You're always just okay," he stated. He sat down on the blanket and smoothed it out, and Keith followed, laying across the star-printed blanket. He wondered if Lance liked to lay on here and imagine he was drifting across the sky, because Keith did. It was childish, but he did.

"Well, what else do you expect me to say? I'm just me. I'm just okay," Keith said.

Lance smiled a little, his white teeth reflecting in the night. "Someone as great as you? You should have the best life," he stated.

Keith felt his cheeks warming up, despite the cold air around them. He wasn't used to being complimented by someone other than his mom. "How about you?" He asked, trying to get the conversation on someone else rather than him.

"Me? I've been great, even better now," Lance said. He put his hands behind his head as a pillow, letting himself stare at the stars, "You know, hanging out with you 's the best part of the day," he admitted. He turned to face towards Keith, so they were eye-to-eye now, only a few feet apart.

Keith felt his face get warmer. He wondered why Lance thought that, but didn't ask out loud. He didn't like being the center of attention, never did, "Me too," he agreed.

Lance smiled again, a big grin showing his teeth. His smile was contagious for Keith, who couldn't help but smile as well.

"Hey, so, what do you think of hanging out this weekend?" Lance asked, out of the blue, "Like maybe with some of my other friends or something?"

Keith rubbed his hand against the soft galaxy-printed blanket, trying to think of a response. It was a yes-or-no question, but there was two sides. One, he'd get to hang out with Lance more, see him in daylight. Also, Lance would think that Keith didn't like him if he said no. But two, there was something secure about the night, something Keith didn't want to lose, and Keith didn't know how'd he get along with Lance's friends. Just because Lance was safe didn't mean everyone else was.

"That uh...sounds good," Keith stammered over his words.

"Great!" He smiled, a flash of white. Keith briefly wondered what color his eyes were. It's hard to tell colors at night, so they just looked black, "You and Pidge'll probably get along pretty well, you mentioned you like conspiracy theories, right?" Lance didn't give Keith a chance to answer before he started talking again, "Hunk gets along with everyone, and so does Shiro. Its a shame he moved transferred schools, kinda miss the dude sometimes. Allura and Adam are pretty chill, and Romelle's a little wacky sometimes, but she's pretty cool."

Keith blinked, "That's quite a few people," he stated. He tried to swallow down his worry. That's too many people at once. Why did I sign up for this? Keith couldn't remember half of their names. This was definitely not going to turn out well.

"Yeah, I'm a people-person," Lance admitted, "Though it's hard to find all of them on the same day. It'll probably just be us, Hunk, and Pidge," He stated.

Keith nodded. Two people were a lot more manageable than six, though he was still nervous. He was never good at talking to others.

"So, how about Saturday? We'll meet here, and I'll take you over to my place?" He asked.

Keith let out an exhale before speaking, "Sure," he said, not knowing why he said yes in the first place. Lance was fine, but Keith didn't know if everyone else would be too.

~~~

Keith slipped his jacket over his shoulders, and stared out the window. His yard looked grey on the cloudy morning. It was expansive, reaching far back, with many trees, and of course, the forest pathway. He adjusted his jacket, grabbed his phone and a pair of earbuds, and headed outside.

It was cloudy, which helped calm Keith's nerves. He always preferred cloudy weather over sunny weather. He didn't know why.

He walked outside and headed into the path. Somehow, it was a lot less beautiful than when he and his sister used to play here, or even how it looked at night. It was kind of dead, the tree's bare branches made a roof, with a bit of clouds poking through. He sat down on the log, and popped an earbud in.

Lance was late. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed by, songs changed and changed. Keith focused on the sky, looking close at the lines indicating different layers of clouds.

"Hey, Keith!" Keith spun his head around towards the voice.

This was the first time he had seen Lance in daylight. His freckles stood out a lot more, instead of being small dark patches, they were dark brown dots, the same chocolate-brown as his curly hair. He wore a dark green cargo jacket, the one he almost always wore, based on the orange stripes on the sleeves. He was beautiful, in a way.

Lance seemed to have a different impression of seeing Keith in the day. He blinked, as if trying to clear his sight, and gave a soft gasp. "You have a mullet?" He asked, his voice so loud he was almost yelling.

"You didn't notice?" Keith asked, subconsciously touching his hair.

Lance looked baffled, "I have bad night vision, okay? I thought that was just your hoodie that you wear all the time," he defended himself.

Keith shrugged.

"I can't believe you have a mullet," Lance muttered, "Out of all people. I expected better from you, Keithy," he stated.

Keith dismissed his comment about his hair, but questioned one thing. "Why do you insist on calling me Keithy, anyway?" Keith asked.

Lance shrugged, and plopped down next to Keith on the log. The familiar Lance smell filled the air, which was hard to describe. People would only know it if they smelled it for themselves, "It's fun to say," he said, and left it at that, "You want to get going?" He asked.

"Sure." Keith pulled out his second earbud, and shoved it in his jacket's pocket.

Lance led the way through a trail of trees, all of them incredibly tall. Dead leaves colored brown snapped and crunched as the two stepped through them, remains of autumn scattered around the ground.

He climbed up a hill, using some moss-covered rocks as steps. Lance held out a hand for Keith to use. Keith considered grabbing it, but decided he could figure out the rock-stairs for himself. Once he climbed up, there was a long dirt road ahead of them. The two of them walked down it, enjoying the silence together. The occasional birch tree spotted the path lined with maple and oak trees.

"I don't think any of my siblings are home. Veronica's hanging out with her friends, and my other siblings are all in college, so we should be good," Lance stated. He had told Keith about all his siblings a while ago. He thinks the other three sibling's names were Marco, Luis, and Rachel, but he couldn't remember.

He touched the wood of a certain tree. "Here we are," he said to himself, and started climbing up the hill. Keith followed.

There was a large house, a light brown color with white accents. Lance's family must have more money than Keith's did. Lance dashed through the yard and lead Keith into the house. Keith didn't have time to observe the house around them, as Lance just started pulling Keith towards a door, which probably lead to the basement.

Lance headed halfway down the stairs, and stopped. "Hello, everyone, we have a special guest!" Lance imitated a television talk-show host, which made Keith crack a smile. He always did have a stupid sense of humor, "Introducing, Keith!"

A petite girl with short and messy light brown hair looked up from her spot on the couch. A pair of silver-lined round glasses sat on her nose. The reflection from her laptop illuminated the underside of her pale face. "Hey, you're that Keith that Lance won't shut up about," She stated.

Keith nodded, and headed down the stairs. He was starting to regret his decision of coming here. Unease clawed at the bottom of his stomach. Really? Now? he yelled at himself, but it didn't go away. Why was he like this.

Another guy looked up. He had a much darker skin tone than the girl, and was also a lot bigger. A headband held his hair up, though a couple strands poked through. He looked at Keith, and smiled.

Why did he have to be so uncomfortable? These people seemed like perfectly nice people, yet Keith was starting to feel nervous.

"Hello, Keith!" He said, and gave a friendly wave.

Keith returned the wave, but it was done weakly. His bones felt like lead. "Uh, hey," he awkwardly introduced himself.

Lance walked down the stairs, and Keith followed. The basement was dimly lit, only by a single lamp, the girl's laptop, and the television. The walls were a cream color, and the sectional was a plain dark blue. Lance collapsed against the side that stuck out. "I'm tired," he complained.

"Anyway, I'm Pidge, and that's Hunk," She said, pointing to herself, and then to the guy. Pidge went back to clicking away at her computer. Keith looked over to the television, which was playing the same car commercial he's seen a million times. Hunk hummed to the music on it.

"I'm going to go get some ramen. Keith, you want any?" Lance asked, looking up from his spot on the couch, around on the group.

Keith nodded. He hadn't realized he was hungry, but his stomach was growling at him. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, which was half of a reheated sandwich at five in the morning. His mom ran into him, sitting on the counter, eating a sandwich at five in the morning. Not Keith's proudest moment.

"Alrighty, give me a second," Lance said. He pulled himself off of the couch, and started heading up the stairs, letting his feet pound against the wood.

"Get me a soda!" Pidge yelled at him as he crawled up the stairs.

Lance came back about ten minutes later, holding four bowls of noodles at once. He held them in his arms, steadily coming down the stairs, one at a time. A bottle of soda sat in his jacket's pocket.

"Drop it! Drop it! Drop it!" Both Pidge and Hunk were chanting. Keith didn't know if it was an inside joke or not, so he just stayed silent.

"I hate you guys," Lance said, desperately trying to hold onto all four bowls at once. He eventually made it down the stairs. Much to Pidge's and Hunk's disappointment, he didn't drop the bowls.

Lance set the bowls down on the coffee table and tossed Pidge a bottle of Coke, to which she opened immediately and started drinking. "Didn't think you'd actually get me a soda," she stated. Pidge didn't look any older than fifteen, now that Keith got a second glance.

Keith took one bowl off of the coffee table. and started eating it, holding it in his lap. Maybe it was because warm food always helped soothe him, but he felt a lot more calm now. He smiled a little to himself at it.

Lance plopped down, right next to Keith, and picked up a bowl for himself, "How're you liking it?" Lance asked.

Keith didn't know if he was talking about the noodles or Lance's friends, so he just nodded yes, as his mouth was too full to speak.

Lance smiled, "Good." Keith could see what color his eyes were now. They weren't blue. They were the color of the time after dusk but before night, when everything is cast in a navy hue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out, the chapters are going to be uploaded every week on Thursday. Thanks for already getting 17 hits within, like, the first hour of being published!


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's so damn late.  
> Note: In case it wasn't obvious, Keith wears his jacket from the Season 7 flashbacks, not his crop-top jacket.

Every single time Lance showed up at the woods, Keith let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. He smiled upon instinct of seeing Lance, making his lips crack.

Lance was wearing a scarf that night, one that was a bright white. It glowed in the dark slightly, like how all bright white things did. It made sense that he was. November was slowly passing by and it kept getting colder. Maybe it'd snow this year for once.

The high winds whipping around didn't help. Supposedly they were supposed to slow down soon, but Keith wasn't sure. He barely paid any attention to the news anymore. He doesn't need anyone to tell him that the future only gets darker and darker for everyone when he already knew.

The trees shifted and cracked above them. A branch snapped from high above, causing him to jump a little.

"You good there, Keithy?" Lance asked, despite the fact he flinched too. His scarf fluttered around in the wind, whipping left and white, causing him to blink every time it hit his face.

Keith huffed, "Stop calling me Keithy," he stated, annoyed. There weren't really any personal ties to the hatred of the nickname, he just hated it.

The wind made his hair feel like small thin whips against his face, making it fly and sting his forehead and the back of his neck. He put the white hood of his sweatshirt over his head, pulling the strings closed so his hair stayed in place. It also helped warm him up a little, which was good.

Lance opened up the galaxy-printed blanket as he always does. The stars on there were quickly fading into the background from all the dirt and the corners were caked with mud. A fading galaxy. Symbolic, he thought.

Keith frowned at himself. You're life's not a story, you know. Stop overanalyzing everything.

He wasn't sure where he got the habit from. Sometimes he'll notice something small and somehow thinks it ties to his life, like the author of a book tried to incorporate symbolism. It was probably from all the books he's read and all the stories he's tried to write. He's tried to get himself out of that self-centered habit.

"So, have you written anything yet?" Lance asked.

"Huh?" Keith asked, not fully registering the question for a moment. He does that more often than he'd like. If he's not paying attention to someone speaking he'll almost never hear what they had to say.

Lance looked over, "Have you written any of Handsome Man and Mullet Boy?" he asked. He wasn't hiding a smile. It was easy to tell, because he was terrible at hiding his smiles, it just made him look like he was constipated. He looked completely serious.

"I already told you, I'm not writing Handsome Man and Mullet Boy," Keith stated.

Lance pouted, "Come on, it's a good idea," he encouraged.

Keith could list so many places where it wasn't a good idea. "Lance, one, it's obvious that these are self insert characters, and two, why am I Mullet Boy?" he asked.

Lance rolled his eyes, like the answer was obvious. "Cause we can't both be Handsome Man, that'd be too weird," he stated.

"Why not have it be Handsome Boy and Mullet Man?" Keith argued, just for the sake of argument.

Lance looked at him, "That just sounds kinda creepy. Plus, it doesn't have that ring to it. Just imagine it," He made dramatic hand motions while speaking, as if to illustrate his point, "Handsome Man defeating all his enemies with the power of flirtation and Mullet Boy," He hesitated, pausing mid-movement, "Uhh, mullet magic?" he guessed.

"At this point I can't even tell if you're serious or not," Keith stated.

Lance looked offended, "Of course I'm serious, why wouldn't I be?" he asked.

"So you're not joking about this whole thing?" Keith asked.

Lance shook his head, "Nope. I'd love reading about Handsome Man and Mullet Boy," He stated,"Why won't you write it?"

"It seems childish."

"Well I'm childish, and I have no shame from that!" He argued back."Plus, children will read it!"

Keith frowned at the thought. His story ideas usually lead to death, lead to hurt and torture and pain. "I don't think my writing style is good for kids."

Lance shrugged, "Oh, so are you like a deep, poetic type author?" He asked. Keith detected the slightest of judgmental tones to his voice.

"Yeah, so?" he asked.

He scoffed, "Of course you are," he stated, "You write poems and be emo."

Keith frowned, "I am not emo." he said.

Lance rolled his eyes, "You kidding? Mullet, hoodie, black clothes, that bang in front of your face," He swatted at the bang that covered Keith's nose, "How you even get that to not fall into your eyes?" he asked.

Keith shrugged. He never did his hair, he just let it fall naturally.

"Dude, you need to wash your hair. And update your style." he teased, "How long have you had that jacket for anyway?"

Keith looked down at his jacket. Lance was right, it was old. The sleeves were starting to fray and there were multiple spots around his elbows where the fabric wore thin. That's what he got for never going jacket-less, not even for a day. 

"Two, maybe three years," Keith said with a shrug. That was at least how long he's had it, not how long it's been in use for.

Lance's eyes went wide. "How is it still in-tact?" he asked, almost yelling.

Keith shrugged. Hell, I don't know.

"You ever going to get rid of it?" Lance asked.

Keith shook his head. It was his sisters, after all. He was never going to get rid of it.

Lance snapped his fingers, "Hold on, wanted to ask you something," he said, snapping his fingers as if he could snap the memory back into his head. He did that whenever trying to remember a word again.

He snapped his fingers again, landing on a finger gun as he remembered what to say. "Oh, yeah, you guys doing anything special for Thanksgiving?" Lance asked.

Keith forgot that holiday existed, seeing as he's never celebrated it. "Not really. My mom usually just takes us to Olive Garden and we eat all the breadsticks."

"Man, I wish that were me," he said, a light chuckle with his voice, "I love breadsticks. Breadsticks and garlic knots are the best." He looked to Keith with a pleading expression, "Would you steal some for me?" he asked.

Keith rolled his eyes, "You'd have to fight my mom for them," he stated. His mom probably loved breadsticks more than she loved him. Each year Keith gets a grand total of half a breadstick while his mom gets two baskets worth.

Lance shrugged, "She's like six foot, right?" he asked, holding a hand above his head, despite the fact they weren't standing up.

"Yeah."

"I don't think I want to," he admitted.

Keith understood. His mom used to be the most athletic person in the family, including their dad, who was a firefighter. She's grown too tired, too busy, and too old to worry about working out anymore.

There was a slight lull in the conversation. The wind kept whipping around and around, and it hasn't slowed a bit.

"Anyway, what are you guys doing?" Keith finally asked, after taking a few minutes to come up with any sort of idea of what to say.

"Most of my family members flew in today to spend Thanksgiving with us. We all have one huge celebration every year, and now that Luis has a kid, I'm going to be an uncle this year," Lance said. His voice got calm but was still fast-paced, and his smile grew even bigger when talking about his family. "I think you'd like hanging out with one of my cousins, Jacques, he's pretty calm and quiet like you," he stated.

There was just something about his smile. Keith didn't know what, but whenever Lance smiled it made him feel calmer, like that was the rock in a busy ocean.

"And plus, on the day afterwards, Pidge, Hunk and I like to hit up stores when it's all chaotic," Lance said.

Keith narrowed his eyes, cocking his head to the side slightly. "Why would the stores be chaotic?" he asked.

It took him another few seconds to let the dates and things set in. 

"Black Friday. Right," he stated, letting his voice trail off.

It took him even longer to realize what that'd mean for him. "You're telling me you go shopping on Black Friday?" he asked. He was about ninety percent sure only crazy people did that.

Lance shrugged. "On Black Friday, it's not even shopping. It's an extreme sport. We wake up at three in the morning and challenge ourselves to find ten different objects within fifteen minutes, whoever gets the most wins," he said.

"Don't people get into fights on Black Friday?" he asked. Keith remembered seeing many videos last year of people getting into brawls in Walmart. He and his sister always liked to laugh at those idiots.

Lance snapped his fingers, pointing finger guns at Keith, "That's the extreme half," he stated. Keith was concerned for Lance's and his friend's sense of sanity, and strangely intrigued at the idea of Black Friday: Extreme Sport Edition.

"It honestly sounds kind of fun," he admitted. Before Keith started losing all motivation for a, he loved doing stupidly dare-devilish things. He had a clear memory of his twelve-year-old self trying to jump from one tree to another, like Tarzan. And another one of learning how to throw knives.

He was pretty sure he still could if he tried. Keith made a mental note of where the knives were to test that idea.

"It's awesome, you should join us," Lance said, "You get mad kinda easily, it'll be perfect for you."

Keith didn't take it offensively. He knew he got pissed at the drop of a dime, but a lot of time he'd try to cover it up to avoid attention to himself. He could run on and on at the list of everything he was angry about, ranging from as small as the kid next to him in History to as big as some of the most terrible things in the world.

"Yeah," he commented, saying nothing more, "I'll consider it."

"Great, I'll tell Pidge we have a new competitor in the Annual Walmart War," Lance said. The name made Keith huff with amusement a little. Lance was the worst with coming up with names, it was hilarious.

"You are absolute shit at naming things, you know," Keith stated.

Lance pouted, "Hey! I'm good at naming things! You just don't appreciate it!" he exclaimed.

Keith shrugged, "Considering you wanted a book named Handsome Man and Mullet Boy, I doubt it."

"That'd be a good story, admit it." Lance said, crossing his arms over his chest, "You just don't appreciate my masterpiece."

Keith shrugged. It wasn't really a masterpiece, but he was growing too tired to care about it.

There was a beat of silence between the two of them. The wind blew around loudly. Keith considered covering himself up with the blanket as he grew colder.

Lance yawned, covering his mouth as he did so, "Damn, I'm tired. Is it okay if we call it a night?" he asked.

Keith's face fell. He always hated to hear those words, but he felt his eyelids also getting heavier by the second. "You're probably right," he stated. It was probably around three, if he had to take a guess.

He was used to this time though, flashing on the analog clock in his room. It was regular for him, looking through the curtains watching as just enough light passed through for him to see, from the streetlight right outside his home. Waiting to fall asleep, or until the alarm next to him started beeping.

But now he was used to sitting in the forest with Lance. Talking for hours, until it was three, four o' clock in the morning. Talking about nothing in particular, petty arguments, sometimes trying to see who can knock over that three that's almost fallen over (Keith finally won, after three weeks). It was something different at first but now Lance was his new normal.

~~~

Keith laid across the couch, knowing the door was going to open soon. A discarded container of cup ramen sat on the table, along with a half finished glass of Pepsi. He was feeling himself slowly drift off into sleep, but not quite.

Some show played on the TV. Keith had neither the energy or the effort to care enough to change it. He hated letting himself drift into his own thoughts, but with all of his time being alone, he usually did.

"Are you ever going to stop being so mopey and sad?"

Keith shrugged.

"Look, kid, I hated being twelve. It was the fucking worst. But you're a lot worse off than you should be," she said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "You good?" she asked.

He shrugged again.

She looked up, her purple-blue hair which was tied into a bun bouncing. Their parents finally gave in and let her dye it. She teased Keith about giving him white hair, saying "It'd look great on you."

"You know, you gotta live life. Know it's hard, but you gotta. Find some friends," she stated.

Keith looked at her, a dark sadness in his eyes. He was tired, sad, likely depressed, but who knows. "You know I can't do that," he answered.

She looked over at him, "Keith, you aren't a completely useless piece of shit. Sometimes you are, but not all the time."

He narrowed his eyes, "Wow. Thanks. I feel the love radiating from you." he stated in a monotonous voice.

She smirked slightly at his comment, but regained composure of her face, "You gotta make some friends. I'm going one day, whenever you like it or not, and you can't be here on your own," she stated.

Keith dreaded the day she left home for college, a date that loomed on the horizon, only about two years away. He'd face most of high school on his own.

She stood up without another word, leaving the room.The door closed with a soft thud, leaving Keith alone. His sister was right, but she also knew that he had a difficult time trusting others and befriending others.

The next morning Keith woke up to find her bed cold and both her and his father missing.

Her last words to him couldn't have been better timed, could they.

Keith snapped his head up as the door cracked open.

"Hey, you awake?" a familiar voice asked. His mom and his sister sounded so much alike it scared Keith sometimes. His mom was standing in the doorway, looking tired as ever.

"Yeah, I'm awake," Keith answered, his voice slow as he grew more tired.

She looked down at him. He was just laying on the couch, eyelids barely open, surrounded by a blanket and empty containers of food. The soda on the coffee table looked stale by now.

"You know, you've got to stop staying up so late. It's great you have a friend, but do you have to talk to him so late at night all the time?" she asked.

Keith shrugged, "We don't mind it." he stated. He was usually more comfortable in the dark anyway.

She collapsed against the couch with a sigh. "You know, why don't you and this Lance boy hang out over here sometime? Maybe over the weekend?" she asked.

Keith knew this was going to end badly. There was a reason his sister always went over to her friends house, not the other way around.

"I just find it great you finally have a friend again," she stated. Keith smiled slightly at the happiness in her voice.

She looked down at Keith, "I know you miss her. She was a great big sister for you. But I'm glad you're finding another friend."

Keith leaned into her. 

They should have found her. The kidnapping case should have been all over the news, not just dismissed a year after bringing it to the police. The case shouldn't have just been a lost cause. If Keith turned eighteen he was going to get in a car and spend the rest of his life searching for her.

Acxa deserved better than that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song featured is No More Keeping My Feet On The Ground (yeah I know, long title) by Coldplay.  
> Sorry for the late update, I honestly forgot this book existed.

Keith sat on the same log as he always did, feet perched up on the rough wood. He still wasn't used to being here in daylight. If he was being honest, it was closer to night than day, the sun was sinking, and the sky was a deep blue. Like the color of Lance's eyes, almost. Before meeting him, Keith didn't know it was possible to have dark blue eyes, but he did.

"Hey, Keithy!" Lance's familiar voice yelled out. Keith turned his head and there he was, same green hoodie, same smile on his face.

"For the millionth time, it's just Keith."

"Whatever you say, Keithy," he joked with a smile. "You ready to go?"

Keith shrugged, "Yeah, sure."

He was still slightly uncomfortable being introduced to new people, if he was being honest. He got along with Pidge and Hunk decently, but he still felt uncomfortable around them. It wasn't them, per say, it was just the fact if he was around them for too long he's start to feel sick again.

The only people he could stand to be around for longer than thirty minutes were probably his mom and Lance Made sense, the fact the two people he's closest two are the only two people he can stand.

Lance led the way through the woods, taking a familiar path back to his home. Keith was reminded of one night when Lance snuck Keith into his room, and they sat and watched a few episodes of Lance's favorite show on his laptop. Keith can't remember anything about the shpw, but he remembered that Lance's third stair was creaky, and watching the Christmas lights glowing just outside the window.

They climbed up the deck's stairs, and entered the back screen door, "I am here!" Lance yelled dramatically.

Two tall boys, taller than Lance, even, were lounging around the living room. One was sitting in a chair normally, a head of black hair, and the other was sitting on the kitchen counter, rectangular glasses propped up on his nose. The one on the counter almost looked like he could be distantly related to Lance, maybe a second cousin or something.

Lance held Keith out in front of him, like he was showing Keith off, "Alright. Keith, this is Adam," He pointed to the boy on the countertop, "and Shiro," He pointed to the other one, sitting on the couch, "Adam, Shiro, this is Keith."

"Hey," Keith said, not even bothering to remove his hand from his pocket as he gave them a semi-wave.

"Hey, good to finally meet you. Lance's told me about you," Adam said, looking up from his phone with a polite wave. A cup of iced coffee sat next to him.

"Wait, aren't you in my class?" Shiro asked, squinting. "You look familiar."

"Maybe?" Keith guessed. Now that he thought of it, Shiro looked familiar. He didn't pay attention to others in class that much, but Shiro could very well be in his class.

"You have second period Physics, right? With Mr, Smithfield?" He asked.

Keith nodded.

"I knew you looked familiar," He stated.

Keith was feeling uncomfortable now. If Shiro went to his school and knew him, then that would mean he'd try to talk to Keith more, because they had a friend in common. That was the last thing Keith needed, if he was being honest. He really didn't feel like hanging out with anyone at school, he was already exhaust enough during the day.

"You know, when you overthink like that, just tell your brain to shut the fuck up. It's harsh so it'll get you to listen. And if you keep thinking, just keep yelling shy the fuck up in your head until your brain listens," was Lance's advice to Keith, a while ago. Keith had always had trouble with either overthinking or not thinking enough, and apparently Lance has the same issue.

Shut the fuck up, brain.

"Anyway, you ready to go?" Lance asked. Everyone nodded, almost simultaneously.

~~~

They pulled up to a bar-looking place. Keith looked at the place, uncertainty glowing in his eyes, "Are you sure?" he asked, looking at the sign.

Adam shrugged, "Yeah, my dad works here. Plus, it's not a bar or anything, it's just like a hangout place for all the college kids, and usually they aren't old enough to have drinks anyway." He said, "Doesn't mean that they don't, though."

Keith still wasn't sure. It wasn't necessarily the place itself, it was just that the place looked busy and Keith got uncomfortable with places filled with people. He already started to feel himself sinking, but he took a breath and tried to ignore it the best he could.

They walked inside, pushing the glass doors open.

The first thing that was noticeable was the dark atmosphere. It was about as dark as it was outside, but in a different way, the light being a warm orange compared to the blue from outside.

Inside were many booths, dark red seats dulled from years of wear. There was a couple arcade-style games on the side wall, a large bar on the left wall a large bar stood where people were sitting and eating fries.

And in the middle was a stage, a single microphone in the center.

Adam and Shiro slid into one of the booths, and Keith followed. He explained Lance to come here with them, but instead, he jumped up on stage.

Lance took the microphone, "Hey, it's me again!" he yelled, earning some applause from a few people, who must have recognized him. Some people payed him attention, the tall figure standing on the stage.

Lance gave someone in the back a thumbs-up, saying something that Keith didn't catch.

Through a set of speakers, a guitar played loudly, hitting a note, then a second. He leaned side to side to the guitars widely, the microphone pole bending as he swayed. As the tone settled, so did his movements, until he was almost still. "Sometimes I wake up and I'm falling asleep," he sang, a much lower, smokier voice than his speaking voice. Keith couldn't help but stare as he moved slowly to the song, "I think that maybe the curtains are closing on me."

"But I wake up, yeah, I wake up smiling," Keith could tell he hit the high note perfectly, though the old speakers caused it to sound scratchy.

Guitars in the back picked up speed, "So what? I feel fine. I'm okay. I've seen the bright side of life," he sang, marking each word as it's own, "I'm alright. I feel good. So I'll go, I'll try to start moving."

Keith couldn't keep his eyes off of him, the warm lights coloring patches of his skin a pale orange, spots of his hair a light brown. "Sometimes I wake up and I'm falling asleep, but I've got to get going, so much that I wanted to do. But I wake up smiling."

In the background of the song, guitars started playing. Keith was fixated on him, his singing. He couldn't believe this was the first time he heard Lance sang. His eyes shone bright and he grinned, Keith wondered how he was able to manage being front and center, the biggest attraction in the entire room. He even played air guitar, still holding the microphone.

"And this could be my last chance of saving my innocence. And this could be my last chance. No more keeping my feet on the ground," he sang, dipping dramatically at the end.

"Sometimes I feel the chance is surprising, surprisingly good to be moving around. And I move, and I wake up smiling. So what? I feel fine. I'm okay. I've seen the lighter side of life! I'm alright, I feel good. So I'll go, I'll try to start moving."

The guitar picked up, and Lance danced, full of head-banging, arms waving, and his bright smile.

"And this could be my last chance of saving my innocence. And this could be my last chance. No more keeping my feet on the ground,"

"And there's nothing to keep them, nothing to keep them down. And there's nothing to keep them, there's nothing to keep them down." He sang out the last words softly, finishing off the song as people applauded.

Keith was impressed, to say the least. Lance had never really sung in front of him before. Keith knew he sang before this, but he didn't know how well.

Lance slid into the booth, bumping Keith close to the wall, "So, how'd I do?"

"Pretty great," Shiro stated, and Adam nodded in agreement.

Keith smiled, "Yeah, you did good."

Lance smiled, "Awesome!"

There was a bra of silence, which was filled with a waiter coming over and asking the four of them what they wanted for a drink. Adam got an iced coffee, Shiro a water, Lance hot Coke, and Keith got Pepsi, which Lance was shocked that Keith actually liked.

"Did I tell you guys about this year's Annual Walmart Games yet?" Lance asked, after the waiter left.

Shiro and Adam both shook their head no.

Lance adjusted his stance, sitting more upright to start telling the story. "So, as soon as we got in there was a huge flood of people. Like huge," Lance used hand motions to emphasize his point, "So we all grabbed carts and had to buy like ten pretty common things, like shower curtains," he explained.

Keith remembered it took him ages just to find where the shower curtains were. He had been pushed around by the mob for a while, he even spotted Pidge sitting in the cart as everyone pushed her around. She had been sitting sideways in the baby carrier, legs draped over the side of the cart, scrolling through her phone.

"So we all had a group chat to keep up with who was on what, except for Keith, who didn't even use it!" Lance said, glaring at Keith.

"It was for strategy!" Keith pointed out. If he didn't have his phone, then nobody would know what he was on. Keep the competition on edge.

"Strategy whatever," Lance retorted, pronouncing strategy like stra-teig-ir-ye. Keith narrowed his eyes at the strange pronunciation.

Shiro let out a huff of amusement, still leaning against his boyfriend, "Were we this bad?" he asked Adam.

Adam smiled, "I don't know. I think we were worse," he replied, making them both chuckle softly.

Keith knew what they were implying instantly, "It's not like that," he protested. Lance was just a friend. Keith couldn't manage a relationship, not at his mental state. Plus, Lance obviously didn't see him that way. He liked someone else, seeing as he talked too much about this one girl from his English class, which while Keith always tried to listen, he couldn't.

Lance seemed to take a little longer to catch on to what they were thinking, "Keith and I? Together? Nah, we're just good friends. Right, Keith?" Lance asked. He put an arm around Keith's arm and squeezed Keith closer to him.

Keith nodded, his cheek pressed against Lance's, "Yeah, totally." He faked a smile, which certainly looked cheap and unnatural.

"Anyway, like I was saying, Keithy here was being a little shit and not updating us," Lance said.

A set of drinks were set down on the table by a waiter, the sodas fizzing up as they hit the table. Keith scooted his closer to him, taking a couple sips of the Pepsi.

"It's Keith." Keith corrected, after swallowing the soda in his mouth. He always hated the aftertaste sodas gave, but soda itself was pretty good.

"Alright, fine. Keith, here, decided to go solo. Anyway, so Hunk and I ended up tag-teaming almost, we both tended to toss eachother what we needed," He took a long sip of his soda, then continued, "Seriously, at one point I saw Keith pretty much ram down a customer. He went all-out for this."

Keith found it entertaining to focus on Lance's hands while they talked. He was always moving his hands to illustrate his point, or even if he wasn't, he was drumming his pointer finger on the table or cracking his knuckles, sometimes against his jaw. Little strange, but it must have worked.

Shiro glared at Keith, "Really? I expected better from you." His tone sounded just like how he remembered his dad yelling at his sister for staying out late. So this is why Lance called him the dad friend.

"You know me from one class, how could you expect anything?" Keith asked, a large trace of sass in his tone.

"He's got you there, Shirogane," Adam teased.

Shiro rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, "Shush, Woodford."

Adam smiled, "Best insult you got?"

Lance sighed loudly, "You two are so sickengly sweet I think I'm going to puke." He then made a disgusted face, and pretended to double over to puke.

"Imagine it. Lance and Keith, neck-and-neck, both waiting in at least two hours long. We kept side-eyeing eachother, waiting to see who's ahead."

Adam and Shiro were intently listening, and Keith couldn't tell if they were faking or not. It may have been because Keith already lived through it, but he wasn't intently listening to Lance.

"And we were waiting there for at least about a half hour, when I spotted Pidge all the way at the front!"

Adam shrugged, "Not surprised there," He commented. Shiro nodded in agreement.

"Not surprised? I won every time for the past three years!" Lance exclaimed.

"Yeah, when Pidge was like, twelve? She's a pretty smart girl." Adam reminded.

Lance sighed, "I was expecting it to go down to Keith and I, but apparently not," He sounded slightly disappointed.

"They'll be other years," Shiro stated.

"Yeah, but I wanted to beat Keith this year!" Lance complained, overdramatically. He ended up leaning into Keith, who had to fight to not lean a little bit himself.

"That's not gonna happen, with Pidge or without," Keith pointed out, making Lance pout even more.

To add insult to his injury, Lance's head leaning into Keith made a great armrest.

"Hey! Keith!" He complained, making Keith huff with amusement. Adam snickers slightly.

Keith felt the corner of his lips turn up into a smile. Recently, he's been finding a lot of things that he thought would end badly didn't. Maybe it was a new thing. Everything that he thinks could end in him feeling almost physically sick actually caused only a little discomfort.

Keith took his elbow off of Lance, which was met with an overdramatic "Thank you," and let himself fall back into the booth, it cushioning him. This was nice, he could live with this.

He didn't remember all the stress on his shoulders. Maybe he wasn't waking up smiling or anything, but he was smiling, so that's got to count for something. Especially with how he's been doing lately, it has got to count for something.


	6. VI

Never better.

Keith was used to never getting better, he was used to his steady state of not being any happier, not feeling that burst of excitement when something worthy of enthusiasm happened, not experiencing any emotion, not feeling anything like himself at all. He remembers all of those emotions, of course, how they felt like, but he thinks he's forgetting now, slowly they have begun to slip away from his fingers, fingers that are desperate to hold on to them but can't because of their incurable numbness. The memories of emotions that weren't blankness are much hazier now, as if he's looking at the through fogged glass, sometimes they don't even feel like his, it feels like he's looking at someone else experiencing all these things, he feels the need to hold on, there's a voice in his head yelling at him to do something, but the voice is too far away, too far away to actually matter, too far away to affect anything.

He was used to it at this point.

But he feels like he should be happy or at least happier, that he should be feeling something. He has Lance, he has friends, his mom is doing well, hell, it's December, the one month he always seems to feel at least a little better than usual.

But no. He still woke up every morning and wished he could just stop, wished he couldn't think, wished he could end. Between dreading the day and dreading the future, dread seemed to be the overall theme he was going through all the time. Maybe I just need a day off, he thinks, just like he does every morning. Really it feels more like he needs an eternity off.

Keith watched the door, trying not to let his mind wander. His mom should be home any moment now, but he's been telling himself that for the past half-hour. The cheap fake Christmas tree glowed in the background, the epitome of nostalgia, Keith knew his mom liked to have it on when she came home. "Reminds me of Christmas when you were little," she'd say, with a cheery smile that was sometimes forced, sometimes genuine, then she'd proceed to tell him about his embarrassing childhood stories until Keith the ground to swallow him whole and until the smile became genuine. He wondered if she'd get time off from work this year, but it was unlikely, the thought made the small bubble of contentness that had appeared at the memory of his mother's determination to make Keith fling himself into the void out of embarrassment fade, just like all the other times, these moments never seemed to last for long with him.

His phone vibrating was the only thing that caused him to look away. 

No, the moon landing was totally faked

The text caused him to smile slightly. Texting was always easier than socializing, and despite their differences, he and Pidge did agree on three things: the moon landing was definitely faked, Mothman is real, and aliens exist. 

Stop it with the moon landing being fake thing already, Pidge, another text chimed below the first one, Hunk didn't seem to agree with one of the things Pidge and Keith agreed on, it seemed.

Keith smiled slightly, and turned on his phone, That's what the government wants you to believe, he answered.

Thank you, Keith, Pidge responded.

Lance's next text made Keith snicker, BOLD OF YOU TO ASSUME THAT THE MOON IS REAL!

Pidge responded with a gif of the moon exploding. Texting was not only easier, but it was also more amusing, even with the countless reaction images Keith now has saved to his phone. He was surprised to find himself smiling widely as he pulled a blanket over his legs, and curled up into a little ball to keep texting in the group chat. Was this what it was like, having friends?

Keith decided that he liked having friends, even if socialization was a pain in the ass more often than not. He still isn't able to shake the sinking feeling he has whenever he talked to someone, but he can't help thinking that he's getting a teensy bit better at it, or so he likes to think. The closest it gets to not existing is when he's talking to Lance, it's still there and does act up at times, but Keith likes how he almost forgets it for a second or two when both of them are arguing about something that's so small and insignificant that Keith usually won't pay it any mind, but when he's with Lance, the other boys presence creating a small personal bubble around them, Keith suddenly can't help but think that it is, indeed very important and he must fight for it, if only to gauge a reaction out of Lance. 

Keith still didn't know why he was still insistent on meeting him, why talking to Lance was so much easier, why Lance is the best part of his day, he doesn't fully understand, but a part of him thinks that he doesn't need to, as long as Lance is there with, talking enthusiastically about one thing or another, as long as Keith can feel Lance's soft blanket underneath him, smell that unique scent that is so Lance-

Wood creaked as the front door opened, letting a small draft of wind inside. The sound of rain outside threw Keith off a little bit, he didn't realize it was raining. Hopefully, it'd clear up enough for Keith to hang out with Lance.

Keith turned to the door and watched as his mom shook the water off of the umbrella, getting a few spots of water on the fake wooden floors. She looked more exhausted than ever creases and dark framing her eyes, her silvery hair matted and drenched from the rain. She rested the umbrella against the wall and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a cup and a cheap bottle of wine.

His mom only ever drank when she had a long day. Cost too much, apparently. "What's wrong?" Keith sat up, setting his phone down beside him.

She looked over from the kitchen and gave Keith a weak smile "I'm fine, Keith, I promise," she told him, in a weary tone which did not sound promising at all. She stopped around when the glass was half full, and walked over to the living room, slower than usual.

Keith narrowed his eyes, suspicious of her, "You sure?" he asked.

She nodded, holding the inside of her wrist, "I'm just tired, it's been a long week," she stated.

He nodded in agreement. He was tired too—he always was. But this wasn't just normal exhaustion. Keith could read his mom almost as well as she could read him, something was definitely not right.

She set the glass on the table and walked off suddenly, muttering something that Keith didn't quite catch. Probably just going to get a shower or something. Keith did the same thing, leaving the room halfway through doing something. It's caused many meals to be burnt and many showers to be left running.

She walked back in around a half-hour later, while Keith had just been distracting himself with the internet on his phone. She changed into her pajamas for the first time in a while, usually, his mom would just wear the same clothes to bed.

She sighed, collapsing against the couch. Her shirt's long white sleeve rose slightly as she sat down. Keith barely caught it, out of the corner of his eye. But something looked off. Wasn't that the wrist her soulmark should be on?

Keith tried to get a closer look, as his mom asked what show he wanted to watch. "I don't care," he answered distractedly, too curious to try and think about it much.

His mom turned on the TV and played some old ass TV show he couldn't find in himself to pay attention to.

He finally got a clear view. Keith expected to see the black words sitting there nice and neatly, Goodnight, I love you, sitting on her wrist as they had been for Keith's entire life. For her entire life.

Instead, the words were a raised white, like a scar. Below them, a barely visible dark discoloration.

Keith squinted, looking closer. He had forgotten half of what he learned in the soulmark unit back in freshman-year biology, and could not for the life of him remember what a scarred soulmark meant but just looking at it made him feel uneasy.

"What's wrong?" She asked, pausing the show to face Keith.

Keith shrugged, looking back at the television screen, "Nothing, just staring into space again," he lied.

She looked at him doubtfully and turned back to the television. Keith tried to pay attention but caught himself staring off into the distance multiple times, unable to will away the image of his mom's wrist from his brain.

After the episode ended, Keith stood up, carrying the empty bowl to the sink which had been sitting there for hours. "Going to bed already?" His mom asked as he started rinsing it out.

Keith nodded. "Just tired."

"Well if you didn't stay up so late then maybe you wouldn't have that problem," she said. It sounded less like scolding and more like teasing, really, but Keith still glared at her.

"I'm just happy you're finally getting friends," she said, smiling at Keith, "Just don't stay up that late, kay?'

Keith decided to spare her the smartass comment. "Alright, mom. Love you," he said, walking back to his room. 

As soon as he closed the door his phone's screen was on once again. 

Hey do you guys remember about when we learned about soulmates and shit? he texted the group. He could google it, but he really didn't have the time or the attention span for doing so.

Lance was the first to respond.

Not much, other than the fact my SM's last words are kinda terrifying. Ask Pidge. Terrifying? what could that possibly mean? Keith resisted the urge to ask. Soulmarks were a touchy subject for a lot of people, Keith included. He still didn't know what the words on his wrist meant.

He rolled his sleeve down slightly, looking at the words on his wrist. Everybody here's got somebody to lean on. Maybe if he hadn't been such a little shit freshman year he may have figured out more about it. But then again, it was such an obscure mark that there's probably no meaning.

Pidge started typing out an answer. We're on that unit right now actually. Plus, I'm studying to be a soul-ologist, remember? She sent another text right after, Wait what was the word for that? Keith had no idea what it was but figured that Pidge would look it up.

She responded back about a minute later. Google says it's an animaologist, so I trust Google.

It sounds like someone who studies anime, Hunk added.

Keith didn't have time for this. Well, really, he did, but he wanted to attempt to write sometime that night. Guys. Focus. Soulmarks.

Right. So what do you need to know again? Pidge answered immediately, and Keith could almost see her adjusting her big round glasses as she spoke.

What happens when your soulmate dies? Keith asked.

Lance answered before anyone else did. Woah there, that's a bit emo there Keithy.

*Keith, he corrected. How many times was Lance going to call him Keithy before he got it?

Well, when your soulmate dies, their soulmark starts slowly scarring over. Some people get a new soulmark, if they have another soulmate. Pidge explained. Some people don't get a new soulmate, but most do. 

That was what was happening to his mom, it seemed.

Texas Kogane was dead.

Keith waited for a pang of sadness to come, to bring some tear to his eye. It didn't. Maybe it was because of how long he had been gone or how angry he had felt at him whenever that sad look crossed over his mother's face that indicated that she was thinking about him, but his father's death didn't seem to affect him at all.

The only thing he did feel was concern for his mother, she had hoped that his dad would come back. She always said her last words were too common to be completely sure that he had said them then. Goodnight, I love you.

Another notification popped up on his phone. Lance had texted Keith privately. could you tone down on the SM talk? he asked.

Sure, why? Not to pry of course but... Keith responded. Did it make Lance uncomfortable? He mentioned having scary last words.

Pidge doesn't have a SM. Why she wants to become a SM-studier or whatever she called it, she wants to know why she doesn't. She says it doesn't bother her but it really does.

Oh. Keith answered. He didn't think he's ever heard of someone not having a soulmate. Everyone was destined to meet theirs, even if it was for a second. He wondered how that feels like, to not know for sure whether there was a person out there for you or not, he wondered if it was worse than having a confusing or a scary one. He's heard stories of people having soulmarks that say things like "hello" and "have a good day." He was just thankful he never had something like that tattooed on the inside of his wrist. Yeah, I'll stop.

Thanks, man. See you tonight.

Keith texted the group back saying that it was all he needed to know and shut his phone off. It really was all he needed to know.

Someone without a soulmark. Someone without a soulmate.

He felt bad about it, but some part of him wished he could relate. The words on his wrist have always confused him, sometimes even haunted him. Everybody here's got somebody to lean on. Keith hit his head against the bed. "What does it mean?" he groaned, his voice only muffled from the red comforter.

~~~

Singing in the woods. A soft tune, barely audible, barely comprehensible. It sounded like Lance, but not like how he sang before. This was quieter, deeper, not meant for the pleasure of others. Keith stopped in place and tried to listen.

"Home, places we've grown, all of us are done for." 

Keith vaguely recognized the lyrics from somewhere, he can't remember where. He stepped forward quietly, trying not to disturb Lance. He wanted to hear the rest of the song.

"We live in a beautiful world, yeah we do, yeah we do, we live—" Lance stopped singing suddenly. The night was almost quiet again, the only noises being the raindrops falling against his umbrella.

Keith turned to him, spotting a pair of startling blue eyes staring right at him. "Oh hey Keithy," he said, giving Keith a small wave.

Keith froze, "How many times do I have to correct you, it's Keith," he responded. He didn't know what else to say, so he just offered "What were you singing back there?"

Lance shrugged, leaning back. "Some old song that Rachel likes. I sing when I get nervous, it helps." A raindrop hit his forehead, causing him to straighten back up. Keith didn't question what he was nervous about, it was probably just finals.

He sat down beside him, making a shelter with their two umbrellas. Lance's umbrella had all sorts of blue patterns on it, much more interesting than Keith's cheap black one. "My hands are so cold," Lance complained. He shoved a hand in Keith's direction, "See?"

Keith touched it, "Yeah, it's pretty cold," he agreed. Lance wasn't wrong, but, "My hands are colder, though."

Lance looked at him in disbelief. "Oh come on, your hands aren't that cold. They're warm!" Lance protested, scowling slightly.

Keith put the back of his fingers against Lance's neck to prove it. Lance tensed up, wincing at the cold. He started leaning away from Keith to escape his cold fingers. "Alright, fine, you win. You're just being a dick now." Lance whined.

Keith smirked, satisfied with his win.

"Maybe if you had a better jacket your hands wouldn't be ice cubes," Lance pointed out, "You said that thing was what, three, four years old?" he asked.

Keith frowned, pulling his jacket on his shoulders again. There was no way in hell he was giving up his jacket. He was too used to the weight on his shoulders that if he tried to go without it he'd feel sick almost all day.

"You know what for Christmas I'm getting you a new jacket." Lance decided, his voice firm.

Keith glared at him. "My jacket's fine." The two of them had a moment of tense eye-contact, until they both burst out laughing, the sound eerie in the dark forest.

"You really love that thing, don't you?" Lance asked, his voice being thrown off due to laughter.

Keith smiled, "Yeah, I do." Suddenly he wasn't so cold from all the pouring rain, he felt like he was glowing, in that moment, he felt like he was existing in the moment, he decided he liked the feeling. He's been like this for so long he's forgotten what it was like to laugh like this, in that moment, he wants to remember, more badly than ever before.

Lance didn't make him feel whole again or like that crap from romance fiction that tried to prettify serious mental problems. That was never going to happen, even if it did there'd always be one shard or two missing in the corner of the glass, for now, and for the rest of his life. But he was a drop of color in a world of black and white, a raindrop in the desert. His eyes shone so brightly in the dark. He made Keith forget, forget about all the voices in his head, about the dread brought by another grey morning, about the constant emptiness that he was so used to, in those two or three hours Keith spent with Lance, Keith could almost remember what it felt like to be filled, to be what you used to be, to be able to feel.

Keith turned back to Lance, their eyes met.

Neither of them looked away. Heat slowly make its way up to his face and he felt his heart rate pick up. He felt like he should look away, or say something, anything, but he was unable to tear his gaze away.

In the soft moonlight, barely visible through the clouds, Lance seemed almost like an otherworldly being, the spray of freckles across his cheeks and nose complimented the glow of the night, his curls fell across his forehead gently, illuminated by the light of countless stars above them, one or two of the falling into his eyes, eyes that were pools of blue, and Keith was drowning, deeper and deeper, captivated by spell that had woven around them. 

The sound of a falling twig snapped Keith back to reality, the spell was broken. 

What was he even thinking? Keith wasn't in love or some shit like that, no, definitely not, he's just been so starved for a friendship that it sure as hell feels like it. That's all it is, right? 

Right?

Yet he couldn't help but relive the moment, the feeling of his heart thudding in his chest, the heat he felt on his face, he hadn't felt this much so long now, he hadn't been this alive for ages.

Lance suddenly cleared his throat "Why couldn't school be at night? I'd definitely pay attention, and stars are more fun to look at out the window than clouds," he scratched his neck in an oddly shy manner, not meeting Keith's eyes.

Keith was grateful for the conversation starter, he pushed those thoughts out of his head and shrugged. He really didn't know. But school at nighttime did sound better than school at day.

"Maybe I'm just too much of a night owl," Lance said, determined not to let the silence get awkward.

Keith nodded, "Sums up my life," he agreed. Night, while being the time where breakdowns were twice as likely, was also the time where everything was silent and the stars shone above.

"Maybe we should make our own school. Lance and Keith's Night Class," Lance leaned back a bit, completely relaxed now, and Keith wondered if he'd imagined the look of mild embarrassment on his face "Plus, it'd be easier to learn astronomy when there's actual stars to watch."

"Or Keith and Lance's," Keith offered.

Lance finally met his eyes. The rain kept falling. "Lance and Keith's sounds better," he decided. "Maybe that's what we can do when we grow up. Open a school for all the night owls like us. The kids who stay up until three singing and drawing and writing."

Keith felt his heart sink at the fact that his first thought was if I live that long. "I like that idea," he decided, keeping his nihilistic thoughts in his own head.

Lance stretched an arm out, raindrops landing on his hand and jacket. "Me too, Keithy."

And for once Keith didn't bother correcting him, too lost in his though.


End file.
